About Today
by pseudocanon
Summary: The court has sentenced Tommy to two years behind bars for deserting his unit in Iraq. While it's certainly not anything to be excited about, he's come to accept the fact. He isn't all too keen about his life the moment, anyways. That is, until he stumbles upon a blessing in the form of a small brunette called Sara. Suddenly, things are starting to look up.
1. It's a Good Life, That's What I'm Told

**A/N:** New (and first) story, woohoo! I stumbled across this movie and was so blown away by it that I proceeded to watch it again... and again... and again. It's raw, heartfelt, and just amazing, not to mention I'll love practically anything with Tom Hardy in it. So here we are. R &R if you enjoy, I'm open to questions and would love to hear any comments, suggestions, or concerns you may have :)

Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story except my OC are licensed to me and belong to the wonderful screenwriters and producers of this movie. Title is the song by The Nationals, which is played at the end of the film. Chapter title pulled from _The Anthem_ by Good Charlotte.

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1\. It's a Good Life, That's What I'm Told

Two years.

He knew it could be worse, that there have been sentences up to four or five, hell, he knew that in some cases desertion was punishable by death. He could've walked straight out of that cage into a firing squad instead of the hospital. And in the long run, it wouldn't be so bad. Not really. One year two times over, one month twenty-four times over. The time would pass however he broke it down – that really wasn't an issue.

But just… fuck. Those were two years of his life, dammit, just about to be flushed down the goddamn drain like… what? Like nothing ever happened? Like he hadn't fought for his country, hadn't held Manny in his arms as he died with his wife's name on his lips, hadn't seen his _entire unit_ blown to bits by the same fucking country they were fighting for? Wasn't it enough? They want to talk about deserting his unit, huh? By the time the last bomb hit, he had no unit. Jesus. Two years.

Tommy fell back in passenger seat of the old Ford, breathing heavily as they drove away from the prison. One night in a holding cell, it hadn't been all that rough. Somehow Brendan managed to buy him more time, a little bit of reprieve before he was tossed on his ass into bars. He stole glances at his brother as they drove. Brendan looked… relaxed, almost. Peaceful. With one arm on the wheel and the other resting casually on the console between them, he appeared more at ease around Tommy than he had in the last month. Things between them were… Well, he wasn't gonna lie and say they've been good, because they haven't, really. Far from it, in fact. But the brothers had fallen into a companionable silence, and he thought maybe it could be a start. Maybe, over some time, they'd patch things up between them. He nearly snorted at the thought. Over some time indeed. Two years.

"That it, huh?" Tommy mused, schooling his voice into impassiveness, like it didn't really matter. Like he wasn't about to lose two years of his life, of his training, of his career to a fucking cell.

Brendan glanced at him sideways in the rearview mirror, and he couldn't quite pick apart the look crossing his face. "That's it?" he echoed incredulously. "Well, what were you expecting? Jesus, to even give you two years is…" He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly looking very, very tired and though he probably shouldn't have been, Tommy was surprised at how much he seemed to care. "The balls of those guys, I can't believe it," Brendan continued, shaking his head. "I mean, God Tommy, it was friendly fire for Christ's sake. PTSD, you know. You hear about that stuff all the time. And then you went and saved those kids, to top it off." A small, disbelieving laugh made its way out of Brendan's mouth. "How the hell…" he muttered, shaking his head again. Raising his free hand from its place on the console, he clapped Tommy on the shoulder awkwardly. "Ripped the door off a goddamn tank, man, I'm proud of you."

He jerked away from Brendan's touch, dragging his eyes away so he didn't have to see the hurt flicker in his brother's eyes. "'At's what Pop said, too, you know. 'At's what everyone's been saying. Running 'round all high and mighty and telling me that they're _proud_ of me, that they're _sorry_ ," he drawled, staring resolutely out the window, jaw clenched. The morning sun beat down on his face but he didn't feel it, didn't care. ""That stuff", huh?" Tommy laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "What the _fuck_ would you know about PTSD?" he spat, lips twisting cruelly. He knew the words were biting, knew they'd hurt Brendan but it felt like a dam had been opened and now everything was flooding out. Try as he might, he couldn't stop. "What, you think I'm all fucked up now, huh?" Brendan's breaths were coming in shallow breaths and he was gritting his teeth and God, why couldn't he just shut up? "Got in a cage and took a few swings at my own brother, must be something wrong with me, huh?"

He flexed his shoulder, the joint popping obscenely as it squeezed out of its socket. It was sickening. The sound echoed through the car and he didn't have to look to see guilt flood the lines of Brendan's weary face. The apology was there but Tommy didn't want to hear it. He'd heard it over and over again, in the cage, with the paramedics, lying in that hospital bed high as a kite off the morphine drip in his arm. He'd heard his Pop apologize too, over and over as the old man shuffled around pathetically, muttering how sorry he was in between promises to getting back to the AA or something. Hell, he'd heard the damn people that pass him on the streets apologize, his "oh-so-adoring fans". They walked around with their false sympathy and couldn't seem to stop telling him how sorry they all were, like they knew him or something. Bullshit. Tommy was done with fucking apologies. He chuckled darkly and there wasn't anything funny, the sound pulled out of him with a sneer. "I meant what I said before, you got some serious stones."

By the time Tommy chanced a look over, Brendan's face looked the same as always, though both his hands clenched tightly around the wheel.

* * *

They pulled into Brendan's driveway, still not saying a word. Tommy took advantage of the silence to get a good look at Brendan's house, trying to get a picture of the life his brother had. A typical suburban flat, complete with a wide, grassy lawn and well-groomed garden. Perfect for the kind of guy with a wife, two kids, and a minivan. Which was… _exactly_ the kind of guy his brother was. He swallowed the bitterness rising inside him. Yeah, Brendan got what he wanted when he stayed.

"'Ey man, you gonna just sit there or you gonna come in?" Brendan asked, forcing a small smile as he yanked the passenger door open, probably wondering what the hell was taking him so long.

Tommy looked up, eyes unfocused for a minute before he swallowed, nodding. "Yeah. I – yeah." Brendan was making an effort, and damned if he was gonna be the one to throw it all to shit. Not today, anyways. "You opening the door for me like I'm some chick now?" he asked, reaching over to punch his brother's shoulder playfully.

Brendan grinned and it was visible how a little tension eased out of him. Things were still rocky, tentative, and awkward between the two, but it was a start. "Yeah, well, you were takin' so long you I thought maybe you'd turned into one," he shot back, dodging the swipe his way at the comment. "C'mon, let's get you some food." He paused at the door, key in hand as he waited for Tommy to catch up. "You hungry?"

Right on cue, Tommy's stomach growled, eliciting a sharp bark of laughter from the both of them. "Damn right I am." He shuddered, thinking of the food from the previous night. "Jail's got worse food than the Corps and that's sayin' something."

They share a laugh as Tess opened the door like some sort of psychic, although it probably wasn't hard to guess they were home from the racket they were making outside. "You guys gonna come in or what?" she asked, sounding so much like her husband that Tommy wanted to laugh. Brendan grinned sheepishly, pocketing his keys as he leaned in for a quick peck. Tommy averted his eyes and told himself there wasn't a clench in his chest at the sight of the happy couple, that there wasn't a small, tiny piece of him that wanted for himself even a fraction of what Brendan and his wife had.

Tess smiled at him warmly, beckoning him inside. "Hey Tommy, it's good to see you." Her tone actually sounded genuine, and for all its worth, he thought she was definitely a better actress than Brendan. "Come on in, the girls can't wait to meet you, and there's pancakes if you're hungry." And shit, he had to give her props for trying. Because here he was, the man who landed a good beating on her husband the last time she saw him, and in turn had his shoulder dislocated by the same man. And here she was, smiling and telling him to come in, to come meet their daughters, like she wanted him to be a part of their family too. He'd like that, maybe. Someday.

The dynamic of Brendan's house was unlike anything Tommy had ever seen. _Well, 'course it's not,_ he thought wryly. Like there could ever be any sort of family dynamic in Paddy Conlon's household. But as soon as he stepped foot into that house, the mood was just so domestic and homey and the feel sent his mind reeling. What he wouldn't have given for that as a child. He caught Brendan's eye across the foyer as he slid his shoes off. "Nice place," he remarked quietly. And he didn't say anything about how it was the place he left Tommy and Ma for, he didn't mention that while he was off with Tess, Ma was coughing up blood and Tommy was rubbing her down with holy water because there just wasn't money to pay for insurance. He didn't have to, and for the first time, he didn't want to either, either. It was just a nice place. Brendan nodded his thanks, mouth lifting into a tentative half smile. He understood.

"Girls!" called Tess, breaking their moment of silence. "Come down and meet your Uncle Tommy!" There was a pause, and then a flurry of little footsteps down the stairs and excited shouts and giggles.

"He's here, he's here!" little voices exclaimed joyfully, nearly stopping Tommy in his tracks. He's… what? Brendan, Tess, they told the girls about him? And good things, too, judging from the excitement their small voices held. His head whipped around to look at his brother but Brendan studiously avoided his gaze. Tommy didn't have time to even process that because the next minute, two blurs of blonde pig-tails came hurtling down the stairs.

The older girl, at least seven or eight, slid to a stop expertly, beaming up at him. The littler one struggled however, skidding as she tried to stop. She stumbled forward, right into Tommy. He reached down to steady her, suddenly very aware of the large lump forming in his throat. No words would pass through, but thankfully the oldest girl had enough of them. "Hi Uncle Tommy!" she cried, bouncing on her toes excitedly. "I'm Emily."

He smiled back at her almost unthinkingly, swallowing down the lump in his throat at the words 'Uncle Tommy'. "Hi, Emily," he replied softly, eyes impossibly soft. "It's real good to meet you." And it was. God, it was. He looked down to the little girl at his feet. "And how about you? What's your name?"

She blinked up at him, eyes large and glassy. "Rosie," she whispered, entirely too solemn for a girl around age five. "My – my name is Rosie." The little thing was blushing shyly and stuttering over her words as she tried to hide her face in his pant leg and Tommy thought it was just about the cutest thing he'd ever seen. "You're big," she whispered, almost as an afterthought as she stared up at him with those giant eyes. He stared down at her for a second, astonished, before a laugh bubbled forth from his lips. Of all the things…

Brendan and Tess stood in the kitchen, Tess with her hand over her mouth as she watched the scene unfold and Brendan blinking rapidly. He hadn't heard his brother laugh, truly laugh like that in _years_.

"Well," Tommy started, crouching down beside her with a grin. "How about now? See, I'm not so big." Rosie shook her head, taking a hesitant step forward before wrapping her tiny arms around his neck and pressing her face into his shoulder. Tommy froze at first, then slowly pulled his arms around his niece, holding her to him.

If Tess began to tear up in the kitchen, nobody said a word.

* * *

"Tag! Uncle Tommy, you're it!" yelled Emily as she darted away from him. Rosie refused to let go of his leg, making it a fair challenge to waddle after her older sister. After breakfast, the girls had kidnapped him, dragging him outside to play.

Tommy looked down at Brendan's youngest clinging to his leg like a lifeline. "Hey, Rosie," he prompted softly, "don't you wanna go get your sister?" She shrugged bashfully and he took that as an alright answer. Reaching down, he pried her little hands from around her leg and enclosed one with his, leading her over to where Emily gleefully skipped about, shouting "Bet you can't catch me!"

He squeezed Rosie's hand, grinning. "Come on. Let's go get her." All of a sudden, the little girl burst out in a grin, beaming up at him as she broke into a run, dragging him by the arm to chase after her sister. "Whoaaaa!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Where'd all that energy come from?" Rosie just giggled as she ran, nearly tripping over herself. Emily squealed as they neared her, dancing away. Tommy just leaned down, picked up Rosie, and placed her on his shoulders, chasing after the kid and grabbing her in a bear hug as she shrieked.

Rosie was ecstatic. "Got you, Em, got you! Me an' Uncle Tommy got you!" She was smiling so widely as she pushed her wild hair from her face, shouting gleefully. It was the most he'd heard her speak since he got there. He just grinned back at her, not quite trusting himself to form words, and brushed her hair back, clumsily redoing her pigtails.

After a couple rounds of tag, hide-and-seek, and later, hide-and-seek tag, the girls quieted down and Tommy had somehow been roped into swing duty, oblivious to Brendan and Tess watching through the porch screen. "He's good with them," she remarked, watching their daughters shout and giggle as Tommy takes turns pushing them. Brendan swallowed thickly, nodding. He wasn't sure what to expect when he took Tommy home with him. Tess was fully on board with it and come on, it's not like he was about to leave his own brother in jail, no matter how bad things got between them. But he never, never expected this, for his brother to turn into this fun uncle and immediately become wrapped around his little girls' fingers. Watching the man out there, you'd never be able to guess he'd been abused as a child, had been to war, was awaiting a prison sentence. Tommy looked… happy.

"Yeah. He really is."

Tommy and the kids stayed outside playing the whole morning. He didn't notice how much time had gone by until he saw Tess on the porch, calling them in for lunch.


	2. Why Do You Go Wasting Your Time on Me?

**A/N:** New chapter! A million thanks to those of you who left reviews for your positive feedback! You guys made me fly through this chapter. As always, comments, questions, concerns, and suggestions are all appreciated. Reviews make my day :) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Same goes, nothing's mine but Sara, though do I wish Tommy was... ANYWAYS. Title is from _Wasted Time_ by Vance Joy (who is amazingly talented and an absolute angel).

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2\. Why Do You Go Wasting Your Time on Me?

Tommy woke to incessant banging on his door and only had time to mutter a sleepy "Wha'thefuck?" before two little menaces in footed pajamas burst through the doorframe and proceeded to knock the breath out of him as they jumped onto his unsuspecting form.

He could only stare as the girls flopped around, giggling and shrieking while he blinked the sleep from his eyes. Emily shouted gleefully as she bounced on the mattress and he winced at the creak of the springs, hiding an amused grin as Tess' yell echoed through the house, calling for the kids to settle down and let their Uncle Tommy rest. Rosie knelt down beside him, eyes wide as she sobered immediately. "Uncle Tommy?" A little hand reached out to poke his cheek. "Aren't you going to get up and play with us?" she whispered. And well, fuck, as much as he would have liked to just roll over and go back to sleep, it seemed Brendan's youngest had already wrapped him around her finger and he found it quite impossible say no to her wide, pleading eyes.

The corners of his lips turned up as he nodded. "Sure, I'll play with you kiddos in a second." Emily shouted her excitement, flopping onto his chest. Hiding a smirk, he flipped them over and ran his hands down her side, tickling the girl mercilessly.

"Uncle Tommy! Uncle Tommy, st-stop!" She dissolved into giggles, squirming as she tried to escape him. Rosie laughed delightedly, bouncing on her knees beside them. Feeling pity at long last, he released Emily, who quickly rolled away to catch her breath. Turning to the younger girl with a glint in his eye, Tommy genuinely laughed as she quickly bounced off the bed, pausing a safe distance away to eye him warily.

"Oh, a'right," he sighed dramatically. "S'pose you're safe, Rosie." The child in question grinned in triumph, immediately scampering back over for a hug. Tommy grunted in surprise as the kid flung herself practically on top of him. A small chuckle escaped him and he patted her on the back awkwardly. "Right, run along now, I'll be down in a minute. Your mom's prolly got breakfast all ready for you."

The children waved at him as they ran back down the hall, their laughter bouncing off the walls. Tommy sighed, running a hand through his messy hair as he propped himself up on his elbows. Since when had he grown so… soft? Jesus, he felt like he was turning into a woman or something. Yet in all seriousness, it bothered him far less than it probably should have. Shaking his head, he pushed himself out of bed and to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

An abrupt throat clear made him freeze as Brendan materialized in the doorway. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at the other man. "They really like you," his brother remarked quietly, leaning against the doorframe. Tommy stiffened, jerking his head in a curt nod. "They – Rosie… you're good with her," Brendan continued, looking at him intensely. "She's a quiet one; doesn't take to many people."

Tommy shrugged. _Yeah well, neither do I_. "She's a good kid," he replied gruffly, masking the small burst of pride blooming in his chest and pushing past his brother through the threshold. He could feel Brendan's gaze on his back but ignored it, throwing a shirt and gym shorts on over his boxers before heading downstairs.

* * *

Tommy stuck with the girls the whole day playing, running around and reading stories and building Legos. So he might've drawn the line at playing princesses and possibly moved away faster than he'd care to admit when they chased after him with tiaras and feather boas and Tess' makeup (Brendan helped them corner him in, the asshole, and an extremely, extremely emasculating picture had come out of the whole ordeal, one that no one would ever see lest they'd like to be beaten to a pulp). And maybe he'd quickly handed them over to Brendan when it came time for homework help, but they came running back as soon as they were finished. It was… nice, for lack of a better word. He and Brendan had been civil, he didn't have to deal with Pop, Tess was nothing but welcoming, and the girls were absolutely the greatest kids. As far out of his element he felt, it was nice. Extremely domestic, but nonetheless pleasant. Home life was something he could get used to… And he pushed that thought out of his mind as soon as it appeared, ignoring the tiny clench in his chest at the thought of his inevitable life alone. He couldn't stay in his brother's guest room forever, and after that… Well, Tommy held no illusions of a happily ever after.

But for now, things were okay. Even if he was seconds from slugging his brother across the face. Brendan had been fidgety all through dinner, casting furtive glances at Tommy. He opened his mouth several times as if he wanted to say something but closed it without a word. Tommy ignored it the first few times but when his brother continued to act strangely the whole meal, he quickly became irritated. As they were clearing up the dishes – Tommy always helped Tess wash up – Brendan cornered him in the kitchen. Tess made herself scarce, clearly recognizing a need for privacy, which only served to further annoy him. "A'right, whadd'ya want?" Tommy snapped, glaring at the other man. Brendan blinked at him owlishly and Tommy rolled his eyes. "Aw come on, don't gimme that. You look like you're about to shit yourself, just spit it out."

The man opened his mouth and – so God help him – closed it again. Tommy closed his eyes, closing his hands into fists at his sides as he prayed for patience. Brendan ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous about whatever the hell this was. "I – come take a drive with me," he said finally, pushing away from the counter and starting out the door. Staring at his brother's retreating back, Tommy sighed and followed.

They took Brendan's new car this time, a sleek black Audi that Tommy hated immediately. _Money to pay off your mortgage and support your family, my ass_ , he thought. You don't get a car like that without money and he knew all too well where the money came from. Nevertheless, he hopped in the passenger seat without a word and they drove off.

The first few miles were pure silence; the tension saturating the expensive interior almost palpable. "Brendan," Tommy drawled, rolling his eyes. Honestly.

His brother nodded, finally. "I, um, I've got a friend," he started. Tommy snorted. Of course the man had friends. Especially now; _everyone_ seemed to want to be friends with the great Brendan Conlon. Tommy just looked at him expectantly. "Right, yeah. I've got a friend that's – well, that used to be a lawyer. A real good one, too."

The words slammed him like a blow to the head. _This_ was what Brendan wanted to talk about? Since his brother had picked him up from the prison, they'd been treading on eggshells around his inevitable two years. Because that's what it was. Inevitable. He stared at Brendan. "You – you can get me a hearing."

Brendan sucked in a breath. "I don't – I… this was what I wanted to talk to you about. I haven't even called her yet – is this something you want to do?'

Was this something he wanted to do? Tommy closed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. "Is this something I want to do?" He nearly laughed. "Brendan, I – no, I wanna spend the next two years locked up in a fucking cell. _Yeah_ , you asshole, this "getting my ass outta sentencing" is something I want to do. If you can get them to give me a trial…"

They paused at a red light and Brendan nodded jerkily, whooshing out the breath he'd been holding. "Okay, okay great. Hey, you know I didn't mean it like that, Tommy." He chuckled nervously. "Right, I'll give 'em a call."

He'd been on the verge of saying that no, he didn't know what Brendan meant when he said things anymore but held his tongue, wisely opting to avoid that particular battle right now.

Tommy stared out the window, trying to wrap his head around things. A trial. He would get a trial. A chance to prove himself innocent enough, enough to avoid the two years. Community service or whatever the hell they'd stick him with would be fine, anything but jail. Or… He suppressed a shudder. Or heading back out to finish his tour. But they wouldn't make him do that. They couldn't possibly. His shoulder was injured as it was and… No, absolutely not. There was no way in the bloodiest hell he was ever going back out there. They might as well shoot him, and then he would be dead along with the rest of his unit like he was supposed to be.

A phone rang. Brendan fiddled with the touchscreen panel on the dash and the call appeared on the screen. Tommy grit his teeth. Of course, state-of-the-art technology for a brand new, expensive car. "Calling Sara Holgersson," the automated voice read. Tommy sat silently, listening to the dial as Brendan chewed his lip.

On the fifth ring, the person picked up.

"Brendan Conlon," a female voice exclaimed. "To what do I owe the honor?"

Tommy blinked. Surely Brendan hadn't rung one of his… _groupies_ or whatever. How the hell was a fangirl supposed to defend him in court?

The man next to him chuckled, though, smiling as he spoke. "Sara, my favorite – " he began, clearly repressing a laugh. Try as he might, Tommy could not find anything remotely amusing.

The girl – Sara – cut him off, laughing. "Oh shut up, you asshole. What do you want?"

"Aw Sara, what makes you think I want something? Can't I just call to say hi?" Brendan was grinning sheepishly and Tommy could almost picture the girl rolling her eyes on the other end.

"Right. And how many times have you done that lately?" Her tone was bitter; like she was genuinely disappointed. Just who was this girl to Brendan?

"Sara," his brother started, only to be cut off again.

She waved him off breezily. "Whatever, Bren. What do you want? Better be good if you're calling me at the ass crack of dawn. Earlier than that, actually."

"The ass – what? It's like ten thir… oh. Oh shit." He let out an embarrassed little chuckle. "Dammit, I'm sorry Sara. I forgot."

There was a pause on the other line, then a dry laugh. "Yeah, you forget a lot of things, Brendan. Things like telling me the mortgage on your house is underwater before going off to fight in fucking _Sparta_!"

Silence.

Brendan's eyes widened almost comically, blinking in disbelief. His mouth opened then closed, then opened again. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut because _Jesus Christ_ , if his brother was gonna start that again… "You – you didn't know?" he asked finally.

Sara exploded. "No, I very well didn't know!" she snapped angrily. "I'm sorry, I suppose I should have just _known_. I should have _known_ Rosie had heart surgery, I should have _known_ you couldn't pay off the mortgage, I should have _known_ you'd be a stubborn asshole and get back in the cage after years because you were too proud to ask for help. Maybe I should have just _known_ to stay the hell away from you in the first place because you clearly don't give two shits about anyone but yourself and your crazy psycho wife!" Brendan looked as if he'd been struck and she huffed a sarcastic laugh. "You know what, Bren? Let's talk about the things _you_ should have known. You should have known I've been abroad the past year because I distinctly remember you sulking when I left. You should have known I'm in Italy right now and don't speak fucking Italian and would have no way of knowing you were in the stupid tournament. And you _should have known_ that I would have given you the money to keep your house before you went and entered an MMA tourney of the top ten middle-weights in the world! Jesus Bren, you don't even like fighting!"

Harsh breaths echoed through the speakers and both brothers sat frozen, minds reeling at the words. Tommy… Oh, Tommy was going to _murder_ Brendan, brothers be damned. He owed his life to Manny, and Pilar and the kids by extension, and to think he couldn't help provide for them because his brother was a douchebag with too much pride to ask for help, even if he had the means to do so… _No_ , a voice chastised him in his head. _No, you're the one who lost._ His fists clenched at his sides. _You should have won._

Never had he utterly loathed anything more than himself.

After a silence that hung heavy in the air, Brendan's… friend calmed herself down, sighing into the receiver. "This is getting nowhere. We will talk, Brendan," she said. "But not right now." Sara cleared her throat, pausing for a second. "Right now you are going to tell me what you wanted. And fast, because international phone calls are _hella expensive_."

Brendan had the grace to look contrite, at least. "Right, yeah. Sara, I need a favor…" he began, sighing. "A pretty big favor." They pulled into an empty strip mall, expensive car screeching to a halt. "I need you to come to court with me."

A pregnant pause filled the line, followed by a choked laugh. "Brendan," she breathed. "What – what have you done?"

The man rushed to backtrack. "Well, it's not for me but I… um…" he trailed off, biting his lip. "Please, Sara. You have to – "

She cut him off again, a spark of fury burning in her voice. "I don't _have_ to do anything for you." Brendan closed his eyes, head falling back to rest upon the seat. Sara sighed. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. I just… you know I'd rather not go back into law."

And there it was. The inevitable "no" and "sorry, but there's really nothing I can do" that he'd been subjected to all his life. Tommy shook his head. And they wondered why he never bothered with hope anymore. The lower his expectations, the less room for disappointment. He relaxed, sprawling out across the leather seat. This conversation no longer appealed to him.

Brendan, on the other hand, was not yet so jaded. "I know," he replied quickly. "I know you wouldn't. But Sara, please, I'm begging you," she implored. Huh. The last time Brendan had sounded so desperate had been when he begged Tommy to understand his decision to stay with Tess. Or his "crazy psycho wife", as Sara so fondly referred to her as. Tommy snorted in amusement. It was too bad, he mused. If the girl hadn't just inadvertently sealed his fate in a cell for the next two years, he would have liked to meet her.

"What is it?"

His brother cast a look at him, not answering right away. "Got any experience with military justice?" he asked instead.

And just like that, Brendan managed to score him a defense attorney. "Your brother," Sara said softly. It wasn't a question. Tommy wanted to scream. She knew, of course she knew. The whole world knew his sob story. "Right. I'll need a case file of details, preferably in the next twenty-four hours. I'm taking the next flight out tomorrow." Her voice was suddenly business; sharp and determined.

Tommy's head snapped up. _A case file of details. Next flight out._ Maybe hope wasn't such an absurdity.

He stole a look at his brother in the seat beside him. The man wore a soft smile, full of relief and… pride, maybe. "Sara," Brendan breathed, chuckling quietly. "Have I told you I loved you lately?" A real laugh filled the speakers, bright and clear and inexplicably adorable, and when the sound died out, Tommy decided he wanted to hear that laugh again. "But what changed your mind?" Brendan asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

Absent was the "He's your brother, I have to!" or the "Oh, his story's so sad, of course I'll help!" he'd been expecting. Instead, Sara said simply, "Could be the only case actually worth winning." And he was left to decipher the implications of that.

Brendan nodded, a thoughtful look in his eye. "Well, thank you nonetheless," he told her softly. "You have no idea how much I appreciate it. I'll let you go now, but we'll catch up when you land tomorrow, yeah?"

"Sure, tomorrow. We have _a lot_ to catch up on." Sara reminded him. "And you don't have to thank me." She paused before hanging up. "I'm not doing this for you."

There was the telltale click of the line being cut. Neither brother said a word as Brendan pulled out of the mall. Tommy stared out the window at the stars dotting the night sky, the sun long since faded away. Sara Holgersson.

* * *

Sara fell back in her bed with a groan. It was way too early for all this. And she was just so _angry_ with Brendan. God, he was supposed to be her best friend. She's saved his ass countless times over but when it really mattered, of course his stupid pride got in the way of asking for help. And _of course_ he only called her when he needed something. At four in the goddamned morning, no less. She needed a drink. Going back to law. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

Sighing, the girl began to pack, folding up clothes and toiletries and tossing them into her huge ass suitcase. She'd been abroad for the better part of a year, and honest to God, traveling was heavy. As she fit her things into her bag, Sara wondered why she'd really agreed to help Bren. Sure, he was her best friend but it wasn't like she owed him anything. In fact, she'd done her part in that friendship more than needed. But maybe this case would be what she always hoped for in law. A real fight for justice rather than countless petty suits from people with more than enough money to spare. Maybe it would be the one job that actually made her feel like someone; like she was doing something that actually _mattered_ , something that she gave a rat's ass about. Maybe it would be the first case she wouldn't hate herself for winning.

Or maybe it was just Tommy. Sure, she'd heard bits and pieces about him through Brendan but it was clear the brothers weren't close and Sara had never been one to keep pressing for information. But when she'd finally gotten wind of the whole Sparta thing… As much as she was loath to admit it, Sara (as well as half of America) had been captivated by the dark, enigmatic war hero. Who, albeit a bit rugged, may have also looked like he stepped straight out of GQ mag. She shook her head, flopping back down onto the bed. For whatever reasons, she'd already agreed to the defense. There was a packed bag and a plane ticket waiting for her at 8:00 AM. She couldn't turn back now.


End file.
